Most Precious
by Sekihara Tae
Summary: Modern day AU with a slice of mystery, a dollop of paranormal, and a dose of romance. Everything has a price. What would you give to keep your loved ones safe? What would it take, to save you in turn? Written for the winning bidder on my RK fanfic auction at Help Japan on LJ. Request was for a fantasy-themed Kaoru/Battousai.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: ** Most Precious, Part 1/?  
**Prompt:** Written for the winning bidder on my RK fanfic auction at Help Japan on LJ. Request was for a fantasy-themed Kaoru/Battousai  
**Note: **_**This is a slightly edited version - roughly an additional 1000 words**_ - from the one I posted on LJ, oh, two years ago.

* * *

A firm kick to Kaoru's seat jolted her awake, her eyes snapping open to blink muzzily in the weak light filtering through the train window. _Train. Why am I on a train again?_

"Are you paying attention? For days you've been demanding to know why we're going to Wales, and now that I'm explaining you're ignoring me!" Misao's strident tones interrupted her half-awake musings.

_Wales. _That's _why I'm on a train._ Kaoru slowly straightened in her seat, her answering glare decidedly grumpy. "Didn't you notice that I was _sleeping_?"

"Yes. I also noticed that you're missing lots of gorgeous scenery, too. I thought you'd enjoy this!"

The Welsh Highland Railway was a scenic 'heritage' railway passing through a large section of the Snowdonia National Park. Despite the gray sky and steady drizzle, the views of Mynydd Mawr and Snowdon were nonetheless impressive, and Aberglaslyn Pass would be breathtaking at any time, no matter the weather. It was just that the world - everything in it save Misao - seemed to be conspiring to send Kaoru off to dreamland. The refurbished Pullman car was toasty warm, her plush armchair spacious and absurdly comfy, the rhythm of the train lulling, and even the gray day itself practically begged her to curl up for a nap. She'd resisted until Misao had become engrossed in paging through a book - the same one now splayed open on the table between them - before kicking off her shoes and letting herself succumb.

"So I did you a favor," Misao declared, raising her voice and snapping her fingers to regain Kaoru's wandering attention. "Wakey wakey wakey!"

Hiding a yawn behind her hand, Kaoru gave herself a little shake. "Alright, alright! I'm awake. And," she added, belatedly registering the entirety of Misao's earlier complaint, "I'd like to note that I have _not_ been demanding to know anything for days. The first I knew about this trip was when you showed up at the crack of dawn on Thursday, waving boarding passes and insisting I get up and pack."

"That was two days ago!"

"While we were rushing around trying to make our flight," Kaoru continued, unimpressed with the interruption, "I merely asked, _as any sane person would_, to know where we were going and why." Misao opened her mouth, ready to argue that this constituted demanding (or at least nagging), but Kaoru didn't give her the chance. "You put me off, and put me off, until we were finally on the plane where you promptly put on headphones and pretended to be oblivious!" At that point, Kaoru's choices had been to let it go - for the moment - or make a scene in first class. She'd opted to be adult about the matter, but her tone left no doubt as to how frustrating she'd found Misao's behavior. Although it was, in part, the use of such evasive tactics that convinced her this was likely to be one of _those_ trips: a Misao-instigated treasure hunt, rather than an officially vetted purchase or appraisal. "My baggage claim receipt was more informative than you," she concluded pointedly. It had been, too; with no connecting flight, the likelihood of their destination being somewhere within the British Isles greatly increased. She'd made use of the in-flight satellite internet - someone, probably Okina, had been looking out for her when the tickets were booked, and they were on British Airways - to refresh her memory regarding unique trends in the British antiques trade. She'd also searched the company database for open and standing requests, paying particular attention to those from the London office, before finishing up with a check of recent sales on Sotheby's and Bonhams among other prominent auction sites. With her travel companion playing mum, it was the best she'd been able to manage in the way of preparation - assuming there was any actual work to be done at their destination.

"Be nice," Misao scolded. "I told you we were heading to Wales after we landed." Which was still two days before, so Kaoru had _clearly_ still had plenty of time to demand explanations.

"You told me after we'd checked into the hotel and I was already half-asleep."

"That's when I thought of it!"

"Because me asking you about it during dinner didn't jog your memory at all?" Kaoru punctuated this bit of sarcasm with an accompanying eye-roll.

"Ah-hah!" Misao jumped on the question like a weasel on an unsuspecting rodent: gleeful and completely opportunistic. "See? Even you admit you were demanding an explanation since Thursday!"

Kaoru frowned back repressively, her left eyelid twitching in a way that threatened Misao was pushing it. "Misao, I know you are up to something. I know that you know that I know. This is how you always are, and I'm willing to let you get away with it - as usual - but you better stop pretending to be hard done-by here, or so help me I _will_ find a bokken and smite you with it." After a moment Misao gave a shrug and a nod and a sheepish smile, and Kaoru eased up on the glare. "Okay then. Go ahead and tell me why we're in Wales. For that matter, tell me where we're going in Wales."

"You mean I haven't?" When Kaoru's frown immediately returned, Misao made a placating gesture and began looking around the table and in her bag as if she'd lost something. "No really, I thought I told you the name of the town while we were at the train station in London, so you could look it up before we lost internet on the train in Wales. It's a small town called Pact," she said, locating a glossy tourist brochure at the bottom of her pile of books and sliding it across the table. "At least, that's the English name. The Welsh is on the brochure but I refuse to try and sound it out."

Glancing through the small flyer, Kaoru was struck by the thought that the incredibly quaint village couldn't possibly be real. The only thing missing was a castle, and it could double as the set for a Disneyfied sword-and-sorcery film. On the front the words _Cytundeb Pladur _were written in script beneath the larger, bold-faced PACT. "Why two words?"

"It's complicated," Misao waved the question away, "and I'll explain it later. For you, the important thing is that Ianto Gryffith, last descendant of one of the town's original founders, recently passed. He left the family home to the town, and the council has decided to auction off some of the antiques in order to fund a full restoration of the building and grounds."

Blue eyes widening with interest, Kaoru flipped back to the town photos, wondering which of the houses had belonged to Gryffith, or if it was even pictured. "That explains why Okina let you use the company credit card," she said, nodding to herself in a distracted manner, "and why he let you drag me along. But it still doesn't explain why you're so excited to be going in the first place."

Ostensibly, they both worked for the family business, traveling the world in search of rare and unique pieces to grace the company's many showrooms. In reality, most days Kaoru thought it was more accurate to say _she_ worked for Oniwaban Fine Antiques (in the dual roles of appraiser and chaperone), while Misao wandered around chasing wild geese. An activity which the family generously (and tolerantly) described as 'working independent projects'.

"It sort of does though." Misao leaned forward in her seat, practically bouncing in place. "Somewhere in there," she gestured at the brochure, "it mentions that Pact is one of the oldest towns in the area, and the only one to have remained continually prosperous since the late thirteenth century. Historians can't explain it - winters were just as difficult in Pact as in the neighboring Nant Peris, their crops would have been just as susceptible to insects or blight or damp - but Pact has never suffered anything remotely noteworthy. No plague, no flooding, no famine. Nothing more significant than an herb garden hit by an early frost, or a round of the common cold." For a town that had existed since the Middle Ages, that was impressive. "The people of Pact claim their good fortune is the result of a deal they made with a magical protector - _and_ they've been telling the same story for hundreds of years, since the town's founding. That's long before the Grand Tour became popular and people thought to make up legends to sucker rich folk into visiting."

"Mmm." Still scanning the brochure, Kaoru was slow to connect the dots and make sense of Misao's excitement. "Wait. You're saying the town name refers to an _actual_ pact?"

"That's the story! So _of course _I had to come with you - I want to talk to some of the locals, see if there's more to the legend than I've been able to uncover. Hear the version that's not really for public consumption." Smoothing the open pages before her, Misao made an obvious effort to regain control of her voice before words started clumping together in her rush to get them out. "Finding a translation - never mind one that hadn't been embellished - wasn't easy, but this one reads fairly well. If you're interested."

The cousins each had a deep appreciation for and fascination with history, although they expressed it very differently. Where Kaoru could spend hours researching the background of an antique side-by-side, Misao's passion was for little-known folklore. The tale less told. Her finds always made for enjoyable listening, especially if you included the babbling that came after: hundreds of tiny details that hinted at the tale's true origins and the nature of the storyteller. As such, Kaoru didn't really mind getting roped into the search... provided Misao didn't make her wait too long for the big reveal. When it was obvious that she was on the trail of something, her tendency toward dramatic suspense could be exasperating. As it was, Kaoru had been waiting to hear this story since before they'd ever left New York. 'Interested' wasn't really the word to describe her anticipation. Snuggling back into her plush seat, she made a show of getting comfortable before announcing that she was ready. "Remember to start with 'once upon a time'," she added. "You always forget that bit."

Laughing, Misao tugged the book closer. "It's not a fairy tale," she said, "it doesn't have to start like that." Mock lecture completed, she then began to read aloud:

"When the English king came to sit in conquest at Aber Garth Celyn, then did Idris ap Gruffydd, youngest half-sib of Llywelyn the Last, go before him and abjure his inheritance. Forever forsaking any claim to the throne of Gwynedd, he asked only to be permitted to live in peace. As he offered no conflict nor ever had, his surrender was rewarded with a modest tract of land near Llanberis, where Edward no doubt hoped he would have a calming influence on an angry people.

Gathering some fifteen families, among them those familiar with the growing of crops and the building of homes, the erstwhile prince led them into the mountains to an isolated vale on the Northeastern slopes of Yr Wyddfa. Its level basin and forested hills were ideal for a small settlement, the land stretching in serene, untouched acres in every direction. Yet scarcely had they arrived when the valley echoed with a wild, challenging cry akin to that of a bird of prey. Above, the sky darkened with the bulk of an impossible, incredible beast: one possessed of the head and wings of an eagle, and the lithe yet massive body of Cath Palug."

"Cath Palug?" Kaoru slipped the question in as Misao paused for breath.

"A giant cat in Welsh legend. And when I say giant, I mean _huge_, at least compared to the common house cat. Think panther or lion."

"Head and wings of an eagle... and the body of a lion. A gryphon?"

That earned her a _look, _complete with narrowed eyes and pursed mouth. "You know, it's times like this - and it pains me to say it - but it's times like this that I find myself _hating _the fact that you actually _listen_ when I explain things. You're not supposed to have figured that out yet!"

"Sorry. I'll try harder to goof off in class, teach."

"Right. How about just trying to hold any further questions until the end of my presentation?"

Kaoru dutifully mimed locking her mouth closed, to which Misao responded with a roll of her eyes.

"Many cowered or turned to run in fear, and Idris did not fault them. He, however, stood his ground beside Father Deykin, a resolute protector as the holy man knelt to beseech Saint Mark for both blessing and forgiveness."

'Silence,' the beast demanded as it landed gracefully before them, the last beat of his wings causing but a faint ripple in the tall grass. No longer a dark shadow against the sun, both its feathers and fur were revealed to be red as blood, its talons and beak tipped with gold. 'I am no Saint, little priest,' it cautioned, voice a low, rumbling growl, 'but a predator upon whose hunting grounds you have trespassed. For what reason have you come here, and what do you offer in exchange for your lives?'

A wail went up at this ominous question, for none doubted the creature's ability to see the implied threat to completion. 'My lord,' Idris answered, wisely choosing his words with both care and courtesy, 'we meant no insult. If we can make amends or ease your temper, we will do so in all haste.'

'I care not for your intent or lack thereof,' came the unforgiving reply, 'only for the result. As for my temper... should you wish me to keep it, you will not make me ask again: why have you come here?' The tone was soft, the amber gaze fierce and intent, threat in every line of the beast's massive body.

Sensing it would somehow know it should he lie, Idris answered the challenge with absolute truth: 'King Edward has given me this land to work as I wish. These honest folk are here to aid in that endeavor. We seek only to be left in peace to do so.'

'I see.' Something of amusement sparked in its eyes and echoed in its tone. 'Another lordling too easily impressed with his own power, spending it freely to show his worth.' It raised a foreclaw in an all-too-human gesture of dismissal. 'No matter. I care not for the whims of your Edward or his delusions.' Cocking its head, it gave their livestock an appraising look. 'Although I may owe him thanks for the meal your oxen will provide.'

'Please! We are skilled farmers and builders, unafraid of labor. Can you not allow us to work this land?'

'To what benefit? Think you I have need of stone houses or human crops?' It shook its feathered head.

'We had planned to raise both sheep and cattle. What of those? Can we not barter for use of the land in exchange for a portion of our herds?'

'If your quantities were great enough to sustain both my appetite and their numbers, perhaps. But they are not, and I dislike the thought of being attendant upon humans for my meals.'

Idris grew increasingly disheartened, but so long as the beast was willing to talk with him, he knew he could not give up. Yet there was little else for him to offer. 'Is there no task we can perform?' he asked in desperation. 'Nothing to which human bodies are better suited than your own?'

Then at last did his words give the creature pause, and it bent its great head in thought, one foreclaw making long, lazy gouges in the soft earth. At length it spoke: 'There is perhaps something, although none among you has the required skills. In time that may change.' It gave a long, slow exhale, warm breath lifting Idris' hair and sending a shiver along his spine. 'Although I may come to regret such uncommon leniency, in truth I have not the taste for slaughter this day.' For a moment it considered the gathered people, golden eyes seeming to weigh their souls. 'Here, then, is the bargain I will strike with you,' it said, deliberately displaying a single long, curving talon, mimicking the way humans would count upon their fingers. 'First, you wish to build your homes upon my lands. For this privilege, you will pay a yearly tithe.'

Immediately, a wave of relief swept through the crowd. The condition was easily met, for the beast asked no more than would be expected of a human landlord.

A second golden talon joined the first. 'You ask for peace in a troubled time. By allowing you to remain here upon my lands, I will be granting you a measure of such. However,' it shifted, lunging forward until its beak was but scant inches away from Idris' chest, 'I know humans.' Its tone was laced with open scorn. 'I know for you peace is not just an absence of strife, but also of misfortune... and I know you are wont to blame others for any ills that befall you. Drought or famine, flood or sickness: all these and more will you lay at my feet if given the chance. In asking for peace you ask for protection, and that is a far greater thing than you pretend.' Withdrawing, it leveled a stern gaze on the surprised and shamed people. 'If I am to ward you against such harm, I must have a promise of equal value.' Drawing a deep breath, it paused for a long moment, its gaze fixed on some unseen distance. 'Worship of the Lady Rhiannon is forbidden,' it abruptly announced. 'I care not for whatever other beliefs you espouse, but you will not welcome the Lady of Horses to my lands. You will not invite the Pwca or the Ceffyl Dwf, nor seek to tame the Merlynod, for all these are her creatures. You will breed no horses, nor bring horse traders here, and any such beast to remain on my lands more than a fortnight will be forfeit.'

Although puzzled by this request, Idris' people hesitated only briefly before agreeing, spurred on in part by the approving nod of their homely priest."

"Hold on," Kaoru interrupted, half-raising her hand as if in class. "I thought Rhiannon was a queen of fairy. Like Titania."

"No," Misao's braid slipped over her shoulder as she shook her head, "although her name does have the right ring to it, and her first appearance in the Mabinogi is upon a fairy mound, she's not a fairy herself. Rhiannon is thought to have been a local Welsh cognate for Epona, the Celtic goddess of horses. And Epona was the only Celtic deity to be adopted by the Romans, so she was definitely a big deal."

"Oh. Then no wonder the little priest was happy."

"After the big scary gryphon forbid everyone from worshiping a persistent pagan figure? I'd say so." The priest should've been dancing a jig in celebration. Misao's humor at the thought was audible when she resumed reading.

"A third gleaming talon joined the other two. 'Finally, you ask for my trust. Trust that you will pay your tithes and forgo your horses. Trust that you will not accept my protections while plotting to take my lands for your own. While some amongst you may feel I have asked an equal favor, an equal trust, I disagree. Should any one of you foolishly wag your tongue in the wrong ear, you could spawn a hunt the likes of which this land has never seen - and although none would ever catch me, I would not have my life so inconvenienced. Each of you now holds knowledge of priceless worth, and I will have something equally precious in return.' Once more his amber gaze swept the crowd, seeking. Evaluating. 'From this day forth, any child born to your people bearing the mark of Belyn will be mine, pledged to me upon his coming of age.' A low rumble of protest rippled through the crowd at his words, prompting the beast to stomp one ember-hued paw for silence. 'Children are precious, and the marked even moreso - at least to me. I swear all such children will be kept safe and given every happiness.'

Idris conferred with Father Deykin and the family elders for some time following this pronouncement. The mark of Belyn was exceedingly rare - mayhap one child in a thousand might be born with it - yet the thought of surrendering a son or daughter at some future point did not sit well with them. Eventually, however, they agreed, having convinced themselves that the bargain was in their favor, the mark so uncommon that they would never need pay the beast's price."

"They didn't really have a choice, though, did they?" Kaoru remarked. As she'd listened to the tale unfold, she'd shifted to examine one of the many color illustrations gracing the open volumes on the table. Chin cupped in one hand, she traced a bold, aquiline profile with the other. "The gryphon would have killed them if they didn't agree, simply to preserve his secret. Not that it worked. From what you've said the townspeople apparently went around telling everyone."

Misao grinned: she considered it a personal triumph whenever Kaoru discussed folklore as if it were established fact. "It was a local legend, known around the town itself and maybe the neighboring villages, but it didn't really go public until much, much later. Not until people like the Brothers Grimm started collecting and sharing folktales, and that was after the last of the witch trials in Europe. As for the gryphon killing everyone if they didn't agree... I doubt it. Gryphons were said to possess great discernment, so I suspect he knew how they would react before they did."

"You think he manipulated them?"

"I think he manipulated the entire meeting. He obviously didn't want to kill them, and it would have been foolish for him to try and hide his presence for any length of time. It made much more sense to confront them openly and engineer a truce. His impressive entrance would certainly have given him the upper hand... or claw." Noticing Kaoru's little frown of disappointment, she gave an exasperated sigh. "It's not like they didn't benefit. Those skills he said they lacked? He was referring to both mining and metalworking. As Pact grew, those skill sets were added, and eventually the tithe they paid was pulled from the beast's own mines. The humans did the work, but he shared the wealth."

"I suppose." Tilting her head, Kaoru slowly conceded the point, while internally reminding herself that it was _just a story_. Caught up in the infectious nature of Misao's enthusiasm, it was all too easy to find herself _believing_ in these tales as if they were real rather than fiction. Especially since Misao herself tended to mix historical facts - like the opening of the mines - into the narrative. "So what happened next?"

"Well," returning her attention to the book, Misao flipped pages until she came to a full-color double-page photograph. "First they did some extremely masculine bonding ritual involving spitting and vowing and exchanging names - and _oh_, can we say _annoying_?! I couldn't find much of anything on the legend itself, but there are entire _books_ written about the possible origins of the gryphon's _name_-"

"Why? What's his name?" As she spoke, Kaoru leaned forward to get a better look at the photo. _Strange... _She blinked several times, trying to make the picture out, but her eyes didn't seem to want to properly focus...

There was a pause, during which Misao chewed her lip, puzzling out how to answer. Or how not to answer. After a long moment she huffed an annoyed breath and slouched down in her chair. "We don't know."

Abandoning her attempt to make sense of the upside-down photograph, Kaoru raised her head to gawk at her cousin. "How can you not know? You just said-"

"And that's the point! There are volumes written about it because nobody believes the villagers could possibly have it right!" Folding her arms across her chest, she gave every impression of _pouting _about the incompetence of early medieval storytellers.

"It's _their _story! How could they possibly be wrong?"

"Because! Well... That's not... It doesn't..." After stammering out the start of a handful of rebuttals, Misao stopped, blew her bangs out of her face, and then tried again: "This story is tied to an _actual_ place and time with _actual_ historical references. As such, it has more in common with tales of Robin Hood or King Arthur than with your typical fairy tale or fireside legend. It begs the question of whether or not there's something real at the heart of it. Something so inexplicable or larger-than-life that witnesses made up a story to explain it. There's also the distinct possibility that the tale we have now is a corrupted version of the original. Maybe the initial story wasn't about a gryphon, but about a man who possessed the heraldic qualities of one - someone who was fierce and noble and protective and lordly. After centuries of the story being told and retold, he eventually made the transition from man to beast, and the term became what he was rather than merely a description. In which case his name would - or could, or should - serve as a clue to the truth of events."

Truth being mutable over time was not exactly a foreign concept to Kaoru. She'd had to explain it to customers far too often - usually right after telling them that their prized antique had been manufactured by a less than prestigious company. "But the name as passed down among the villagers doesn't tell you anything?"

"Yes. Well... no. It tells us all sort of things, but none of them are useful."

"So a bunch of uptight language academics sit around arguing about it? Despite the fact that none of them will ever actually _know_?"

"Um. Yes."

Kaoru's eyes narrowed, and she drummed her fingernails on the table. Slowly, as if she were counting to ten internally. "What did the villagers call him?"

"Scythe of Battle," Misao answered reluctantly. "Or Battle Scythe - that's how it's given in the oldest version of the story we have, and part of the reason so many think it's wrong is because it's the only bit in English rather than Welsh." Her thumb stroked back and forth over a corner of the book, riffling the pages. "He - the gryphon - was apparently amused by it, too."

"Battle Scythe."

"Or sometimes just 'The Scythe' - like it was a title."

"Uh-huh." Kaoru's tone said she was waiting for the punch line. Sadly, there wasn't one. That was it.

_Battle Scythe._

When her scrutiny continued to be met with nothing but a disgruntled expression, she sat back in her chair. "Fine. So they did the shaking and the spitting and the getting-to know-you stuff. Then what?"

"Well, they built their town - naming it Scythe's Pact, hence the two words in Welsh - and then a whole lot of nothing happened for several hundred years. Happy-go-lucky fun times were had by all, right up until Idris' descendant - Folant Gryffith - married a woman from a distant town, and for the first time in all that time, a child was born bearing the mark of Belyn."

"Let me guess: the wife didn't buy into the legend and refused to give the child up?"

"Worse... she went a bit crazy at the idea that her son would be taken away from her, even though it wouldn't happen for at least another fourteen years. When her husband wouldn't be swayed, she went to a wise-woman for help. Of course, according to the legends the woman wasn't merely wise, but a witch."

"It's always a witch, and Dorothy's never around when you need her."

"This was several hundred years before Dorothy's time. Besides, she was apparently a weather-witch with an affinity for both air and water."

"Nice. So what was their plan? Make it rain until the gryphon gave in?"

Instead of replying in kind, Misao's features took on a solemn cast, a sure sign that the story was going to take an unpleasant turn. "There are a couple different versions of what happened after the witch became involved," she said. "In the sympathetic version - the one that paints the wife as hysterical rather than evil - she asks the witch to help her trap the gryphon so that when the terms of the bargain come due, he won't be able to collect. In the other version, the women actually plot to kill him. Despite the difference in goals, however, what actually comes to pass is the same in both: the women wait until the gryphon arrives to collect his tithe, and then the witch calls up a windstorm to keep him grounded."

"And she loses control." It wasn't a question. Kaoru had heard enough myths and legends and fables to just _know_.

"She summons something on the scale of a small hurricane rather than a large thunderstorm," Misao agreed, nodding. "A tumult of wind and rain that threatens to blow away half the town and flood what's left. The legend says the Scythe uses all his strength and magic to cut through the storm and disperse it, saving the townspeople even though they'd betrayed him; but the effort is so great that it kills him. In retribution, the villagers then hang both the witch and Gryffith's wife - which is certainly a fittingly typical sort of ending."

For a long moment both fell silent, Kaoru clearly dissatisfied with the conclusion of the story (regardless of how appropriate it might be) and Misao absorbed in some thought of her own. Then, with a resurgence of her earlier enthusiasm, she nudged Kaoru with her foot. "Hey. The legend does have an original twist. When the child - the marked one, a boy - grows up, he begs his father to build a monument honoring the gryphon's sacrifice. Folant agrees, and a statue is finally placed in the village green on the eve of the boy's coming of age. The next day the young man visits it to pay his respects, and then he disappears off into the mountains, never to be seen again."

"Lost on the same day he would have been claimed by the gryphon," Kaoru mused.

"Exactly. But what's _really_ interesting," and at last Misao turned the book around to give Kaoru a decent view of the photograph. "is that the town actually _did_ erect a statue in the gryphon's honor."

The two-page spread pictured a sleek but powerful stone gryphon _segreant_: rearing on his hind legs, wings spread, beak open to shriek defiance. The sculptor had even managed to capture a wind-blown, storm-tossed feel to the lay of the feathers and the curve of the long leonine tail. It was a truly beautiful work of art.

The photo on the other hand...

"Why did they use that flashy holographic treatment on such a large and detailed image?" It was difficult to tell whether the statue was granite or marble or something more exotic. From one angle it appeared to be made of glossy, highly polished stone - a poor choice for a statue in an outdoor setting; and from another it had a more weather-resistant look, the stone taking on a dull copper tone and fine-grained texture.

"I know! I said the same thing to Omasu, and she looked at me like I was insane. It's completely inappropriate for a book on folklore, too. Usually they go with the most traditional art they can find."

Kaoru knew exactly what she meant: drawings that were somehow even more flat and simplistic than their two-dimensional nature should have allowed. Such a picture would never have done justice to the Scythe. He was far too... impressively three dimensional. Although the photo treatment was bizarrely inappropriate, at least it gave some sense of how the original storyteller had imagined his presence.

After a few minutes of staring at the picture, tilting her head to see if a slightly different angle would provide more details, Kaoru reminded herself that this was not a jeweler's mark she was being asked to identify from a faxed copy of a bad photo. Pushing the book away, she braced her elbows on the table and returned her attention to Misao.

"Tell me the rest of it," she said.

"What rest? The story is over. Do you need me to say 'the end'?"

Kaoru lightly pinched her on the arm. "You know what rest. Tell me why this story has you so fascinated. Because I know you, Misao, and that's _exactly _what you are: fascinated." Enough to travel all the way to Wales. Enough to forgo Okina's bi-annual trip to Japan.

Misao resisted the invitation for only a few seconds. "It doesn't _fit_."

"It doesn't fit? A tale about a magical creature aiding humans? In a European story? No, you're right, that never happens."

Now it was Misao's turn to reach across the table and poke Kaoru. "Very funny. I mean that gryphons don't _belong_ in Wales!" She made the announcement as if both Kaoru's ignorance and the creature's existence were personal affronts. "Gryphons are found in the legends of Greece and Scythia. That's an entire world away. On those rare occasions when they make cameos in European literature, it's either as a first-hand accounting of a fantastic creature that was seen somewhere else - like India or Greece or even China - or as an entry in a bestiary. Having one actually show up and interact with people in _Wales_ is like... like hearing about a water-horse running wild on the island of Crete. Or a leprechaun helping Hercules. It's out of place."

"So? It's a _myth_. Does it really have to make sense?"

"Yes, at least from the point of view of the storyteller. Changelings made sense as an explanation for impossibly ill or deformed children. Fairies made sense as an explanation for why things sometimes went missing only to turn up in their proper place. But that's not the point. What makes this so weird isn't that it's a gryphon in Wales. That's... unprecedented, but not incomprehensible. But this is a gryphon in Wales _acting exactly the way he should_."

Which statement caused Kaoru to shoot her a flatly incredulous look, head cocked to the side and a single slim eyebrow raised in question. It was an expression that demanded as clearly as words: What's wrong with a gryphon acting like a gryphon?

Misao sighed in frustration. "Okay. King Edward set up his court in Aber Garth Celyn during the summer of 1284. That means this story dates from the thirteenth century, a time when the average person wasn't really familiar with the folklore or mythology of other cultures. Idris may have recognized a gryphon from its use in heraldry, where it was a symbol for strength. The rest of the villagers may possibly - even probably - have been introduced to the concept through Christianity, where the gryphon was used as a symbol for Jesus. But neither source would give any information about the likes and dislikes and attitudes of a gryphon as established in Greek mythology."

"I follow you, but I've no idea where you're going."

"How would anyone from that background even think to include a gryphon in their story? 'I want to make this more interesting... I know, I'll throw in one of those hybrid monsters from Earl so-and-so's banner!' Doubtful. And given the depiction, it certainly wasn't added by anyone thinking along the lines of Christianity. Not if the gryphon figure is going around threatening to kill everyone."

"It wasn't described as a gryphon, either," Kaoru mused, remembering the reference to eagles and Cath Palug. "I guess that detracts from the descriptor theory - the word 'gryphon' is never mentioned, so it can't really have been used as a label. Can it?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Poetic metaphors are given a lot of leeway, and we don't know if the word was used in an earlier version of the story, before the shift from man to beast took place. In fact, I don't even know how accurate this translation is - it's possible the Welsh language version describes the gryphon differently. Oh... It would be interesting to know if it uses the term _adar llwch gwin_. It was first used in a story that dates from the seventeenth century, and there's some debate as to whether the phrase refers to a gryphon or just a large bird of prey..."

Shoving aside a slim book of Arthurian legends, she scribbled a note at the bottom of a well-used legal pad, one already liberally scattered with drawings and underlined questions.

"Regardless, though, my point is that nobody mentioned in the story could possibly have known enough about classical gryphons - _Greek_ gryphons - to depict the Scythe as exhibiting all their known characteristics. At best, there might have been someone who could liken the Scythe to a _Christian _gryphon - in which case he would've been monogamous, unable to either utter or abide falsehood, and possessed feathers and claws that could cure poison. Those are the traits detailed in the European bestiaries I mentioned. But that's not the Scythe. Instead, the Scythe doesn't like horses, the most hated enemy of classical gryphons. And he's _Welsh_. Or at least we assume he was. And the Celts historically _revered_ horses. That's an amazing coincidence."

Kaoru had to agree that was a bit strange, but not impossible. Being born in a particular place didn't automatically predispose you to like all the same things as your countrymen. "Is that the only parallel? His dislike of horses?"

"He encouraged the villagers to open the local mines, and may even have bargained with them solely to achieve that end. The mines are on record as primarily yielding copper, but copper and gold are known to be found together in Wales. Arguably, that may show a desire or fondness for gold, and gryphons were known to covet the stuff."

"I like gold." Kaoru's tone wasn't argumentative, merely conversational. "You like gold. Okon _adores _gold. Lots of people do, at least when it comes to jewelry. We're not showing gryphon traits, the gryphon is showing a human trait."

"Alright." Although clearly unconvinced, Misao let the point go in favor of another. "Belyn is the Welsh name for Belenos, who was the pan-Celtic deity the Romans thought to be a cognate for Apollo. And guess what? Gryphons were closely associated with Apollo. They pulled his chariot and were depicted as his guardians. Much like the Scythe claims all children with the mark of Belyn are his to protect. He's also shown to be loyal even past the point of betrayal, another gryphon trait."

That the story gryphon would name the one god to which his namesake had a strong link was quite a coincidence. Especially as Christianity had been practiced in Wales for at least seven hundred years, even by the most modest or exacting of estimates. "You win," Kaoru agreed, "something is rotten in Pact." As Misao aimed a half-hearted kick in her direction, she pulled her feet back up into her chair, completely unrepentant. "What does it mean? What does it tell you?"

"I'm not sure." Threading her fingers through her bangs, Misao leaned on her elbow to stare at the assorted books scattered around the table. "It would seem that there's something more to the story that we don't know. Maybe the priest was more learned that I'm giving him credit for. Although... no. He mistook a gryphon for a manifestation of Saint Mark. If he'd known enough about gryphons to make up a story like this, he'd never have confused one for a winged lion. Still, maybe there was someone there that isn't mentioned. Maybe the 'gryphon' was a traveler from somewhere else, with a more educated background. I don't know. That's why I need to visit Pact for myself, and see what I can learn." She was frowning by the time she finished speaking, eyes clouded with questions.

Kaoru reached out to squeeze the fingers that were once again riffling the pages of the book closest to hand. "You'll let me know if there's anything I can do to help with your research?" She knew what it was like to become so absorbed in a particular piece of history, to be both frustrated and fascinated by the search to the distraction of all else. Sometimes you needed another pair of eyes to find the breakthrough, or else an outside perspective to break the spell and get you to move on to something else.

"Sure. For starters you can keep an eye out for anything bearing the image of a gryphon. Oh, and if you meet anyone tall, dark, handsome and available, you should let me know as soon as possible."

Kaoru blinked at the abrupt change in topic, before breaking into a spate of giggles. Misao soon joined her, and as the train pulled away from the small Dinas station, they set aside the question of who the Scythe might really have been in favor of discussing less esoteric subjects: lunch and site-seeing possibilities in Caernarfon. Misao had purposefully scheduled a few hours between trains to allow them time to stretch their legs and do a bit of exploring, knowing Kaoru wouldn't be able to resist touring the castle. As they talked, she began packing away her books and the other evidence of their trip, and Kaoru fished her sneakers out from under her chair.

"Misao," she asked, rubbing her thumb over a small red blemish on her ankle, "what exactly is the mark of Belyn?"

Glancing up, the younger woman noticed the thoughtful motion and schooled her features into her best 'educated but uncertain' expression. "I'm not really sure. Given the time, it could've been almost anything. Blond hair. A ruddy complexion. Albinism. Birth defects."

"Birth marks?"

"I suppose... although many cultures have separate beliefs regarding those. Both what they mean and what causes them. One popular belief is that they're caused when a pregnant woman wishes for something she can't have or doesn't get."

"Really? I wonder if our mothers wished for the same thing."

Only after Kaoru said it did Misao realize she'd been fingering the smooth patch of skin at the nape of her neck, the one that was a match to the little red circle on Kaoru's ankle. "Maybe." Feigning disinterest, she very deliberately picked up the last book on the table, snapping it closed over the description of Celtic sun signs as the train began to slow. "Right now, I'm wishing to try some Welsh cuisine. How does monkfish - aka 'poor man's lobster' - sound?"

"Oooo... tempting." What wasn't there to like about a fish that tasted like lobster? "Any idea where we could find some?"

"There are a couple of restaurants in and around the castle. The Black Boy Inn is considered a must-see in general, although trip advisor recommended Stone's Bistro for seafood."

"If they're within walking distance, why don't we check the menus and then decide?" Even as she said it, the train came gently to a stop, the wheels going silent leaving only the hiss of the steam engine to serve as a soft background to the bustle of passengers disembarking. "Ready?"

Tugging the zipper on her backpack closed, Misao nodded. "More than. Let's find someone to give us directions."

* * *

His mind stirred from its enveloping lethargy, coaxed awake as something teased the very edges of his slumbering senses. It wasn't the flare of the wards, that phantom prickle reminiscent of sensation returning to numbed flesh... no, this was too far away. Outside his boundaries, but powerful enough to rouse him from the solace of hibernation.

_There. Near the coast._ On his mental landscape, two tiny lights shone bright in the darkness, like bonfires bursting to life on Nos Galan Mai.

_Two._

Both female, both bearing the mark.

Hope surged, a ghostly reminder of the rush of adrenaline and the beat of his heart. Of laughter and family.

_Family._

It took less than a thought to sense them, a bright gathering close by his unwilling resting spot. All well, all whole. Together. Gathering his strength, he sent a message winging silently off into the ether, then drifted back into the depths of insensate repose, cursing his current weakness.

_Guests are coming. Be ready. Tae to welcome, Sano to ward._


	2. Chapter 2

"You knew."

The softly spoken accusation rang loud with reproach, drawing Aoshi's attention to the woman standing in his office doorway. Demurely garbed in apron and kerchief, she was the picture of genteel domesticity save for her disappointed expression and ramrod straight posture. As the manager of the town's only inn, Tae had been well aware that they would be hosting guests; however, he'd told her only that they were coming to help with the Gryffith estate, not that at least one of the women was likely to be marked. Kenshin's announcement had made that omission obvious, and Aoshi had been expecting this confrontation for over an hour.

Exhaling silently and folding his hands together on the desk, he turned to face her fully. "I hoped," he said.

Not surprisingly, she was less than mollified by his clarification. "Oh! You only _hoped_. Well, that makes it perfectly acceptable that you didn't see fit to share, doesn't it?"

"Yes." His blunt, uninflected reply brought her up short, cutting through her sarcasm and annoyance as easily as a shouted reprimand. He didn't begrudge her obvious upset, but he would not be judged for protecting their convocation. "Tae... hope after so long an absence can be dangerous," he reminded her in the shocked silence. It was a lesson all-too painfully learned a decade before, when overweening hope had made them too trusting, too eager.

She frowned, anger slowly shifting to wary concern. "There's no reason to assume these two would be like Tomoe." Although unvoiced, the question, 'is there?' hung in the air, silently requesting reassurance.

Aoshi offered none. "There's also no evidence to show they won't," he said, raising one hand and shaking his head slightly to silence any half-formed protest she might make. "The blending of traditions in this modern world has broken many of the rules we've long thought inviolate. Despite the seeming impossibility of our kind being twisted, we've seen it happen. If one of the marked can become a practitioner of blood magic, _anything_ is possible." Tomoe had been an unwelcome surprise in more ways than one. Not only had she been a blood witch, but she'd demonstrated that the darker magics could make one immune to the convocation's brand of spells and other innate gifts. He wasn't willing to let his guard down again without at least meeting these two women face-to-face.

Some portion of his thought must have shown in his expression. After studying him carefully for a long moment, Tae stepped into the room and took a seat in one of the plush guest chairs on the far side of his desk. "What is it? What's really bothering you?"

His answering sigh was audible, and even he wasn't sure if it stemmed from frustration or relief. "When I spoke to Ms. Makimachi on the phone," he explained, "she asked all the compelled questions, gave all the expected responses. But folklore is her _profession_."

And that had at least the potential to change everything.

Compulsion worked best when it followed lines of expected thought. It was far easier, for example, to prompt a potential tourist to ask about historic landmarks and popular restaurants than it was to make them ask about the quality of the local schools. It just wasn't the kind of thing the average visitor would be curious about. Even should one manage it, the subject's resulting unease - that inner voice wondering "why did I ask that?" - tended to make it impossible to go any further. No, with compulsion the artistry lay in prompting a particular response that would go unnoticed by the individual being manipulated, while still being obvious to the caster. Thus Aoshi and Tsunan had woven an intricate net around local legend, one designed to kindle an intense interest in the town and its historic statue, eventually prodding their quarry into coming to them. This time, however, they seemed to have lured in an expert instead of a curious and susceptible sightseer. It was something that had never happened before, not even back in the days when Sano was telling the tale to every drunken minstrel he could _find_. (Which, considering both the human penchant for alcohol and the convocation's ability to _fly_, had been a large number indeed.)

"Are you saying you're not sure the conversation was compelled? That it might simply be a coincidence?" Tae's immediate understanding was no surprise; she was perhaps the most familiar of them all with the vagaries of using compulsion on humans. Fed up with guests misbehaving, she'd long since begun 'encouraging' them to act more like civilized beings and less like rock stars on a bender. Sometimes the spells worked, and sometimes they didn't, but over time she'd become quite adept at knowing who would prove problematic.

"In part. More importantly, I wonder if she is somehow immune to our magic - if, like Tomoe and her brother, she can see through it." For the Yukishirous, it was almost as if there were post-it notes identifying each and every spell the convocation had in place: this counterpane urges you to keep your bodily fluids off the drapery; this old folktale prompts you to call Pact and ask about the Scythe of Battle. If Ms. Makimachi were similarly immune, it wouldn't be so much coincidence that she'd asked the right questions, but more like she'd read her lines from a script.

"But... surely if she were already planning to inquire it would make the compulsion less noticeable, not more? Like being hit with a sprinkler during a rainstorm?"

"That would seem most probable, yes. But if you know I'm trying to compel you, I lose all power to do so. _Praemonitus, praemunitus. _What if it's similarly impossible to compel an action that was - or would be - undertaken willfully?"

Before Tomoe, they'd never considered whether someone might be both aware of and immune to their innate talents. As long as a spell appeared to work, wondering whether it really _had_ seemed pointless. In the ten years since, however, Aoshi had grown increasingly cautious, frequently challenging what they knew - or thought they knew - about their abilities. Despite understanding his reasons, Tae still felt that he'd become overly suspicious. "Surely at some point we must have urged _someone_ to do _something_ they were going to do anyway," she pointed out, rising to her feet. The inn had been in business in one form or another for more than three hundred years! Even she didn't think her little house-keeping spells were the only reason their cleaning and replacement costs tended to be low. "Yet we've never had a guest check out early for any reason, much less due to a constant, invisible nagging to behave." A slight smile betrayed her amusement at the thought. "Doesn't that imply your proposed scenario is impossible?"

It was a neat if somewhat circular argument, aside from the fact that very few of their guests had been marked. Still, Aoshi decided to keep that observation to himself, along with his other - more personal - doubts. There was no reason to worry the others; when there _was_ reason, he would share.

At the doorway she paused, smoothing her apron in a distracted manner. "I still wish you'd told me," she finally said in a rush, her tone carrying echoes of dismay and lingering reproach. "There's nothing special planned for dinner, and we've only local wild flowers for the centerpieces, and I haven't prepared our best rooms... "

"I'm sure everything will be fine." Aoshi's words were sincere, if not particularly sympathetic. Whereas Tae was of the opinion that every little bit of leverage helped when trying to make a good impression, he felt that anyone who could be swayed by minor details wasn't worth the effort. Especially considering that their standard service was itself impeccable. Additional fripperies were unnecessary.

"Aoshi...What if there's still something there? What if it drives these two away?" She tucked her hands into her apron pockets, although the soft fabric served only to delineate the shape of clenched fists and sharp knuckles.

Their best rooms were not, strictly speaking, reserved for the marked, although they tended to be used primarily by those whom the convocation was courting. Tomoe had been the last such, and upon her departure all of the furnishings had been salted and burned, and everything else washed down with a solution of Tae's concocting. Exactly how she'd managed to blend every cleansing herb from at least three different magical traditions into something that smelled remarkably like lemons was still a mystery, but it had done wonders in dispelling the stench of blood magic from both Yukishirous' rooms. Even so, it took years before Tsubame would enter either unaccompanied, and Tae still repeated the treatment almost compulsively every new moon. As if by doing so she could ward against further evil.

"Tae," his tone was firm, "it's been ten years. Any residue is long gone. There's nothing there. Remember," he added, lips curving just slightly at the thought, "even that famed American psychic claimed we were clean. The least haunted of all the historic sites she'd visited."

Rolling her eyes, Tae gave an unladylike snort. "Yes, and she was also absolutely positive that Scythe's Pact was a complete fabrication. Forgive me if I don't take her word for _anything_."

_Then take mine. _It was spoken directly into their minds, the masculine voice faint but definite.

"Kenshin?" Both spoke the name aloud, and almost in unison. It was unusual for their alpha to speak at all, much less so clearly. Tae couldn't help feeling it was a positive sign, although Aoshi was frowning, brows lowered in thought.

_There is nothing of the blood witch remaining in Pact. _It was a statement of absolute fact, allowing no room for dissent. He would know, having drained himself dangerously close to full petrifaction in order to reset the wards after her meddling. Every care had been taken to ensure the openings she had exploited were well and truly sealed. _The monthly cleansing is unnecessary... unless you've grown particularly fond of citronella._

Flushing at his gentle teasing, Tae dipped a small curtsy - he couldn't see her, exactly, but the formality was for her sake as much as his. "Thank you, Kenshin," she said, her earlier tension visibly easing. "Well then... I'd best make sure there are fresh linens in the rooms." With a nod toward Aoshi she disappeared down the hallway, talking quietly to herself about what she could - or should - serve for dinner.

_Monkfish. _The one word answer was tinged with laughter, Kenshin's mirth lingering in their minds even as his presence withdrew as quickly as it had come.

"I suppose we'll find out why that's funny later," Aoshi murmured, turning back to his computer and dispelling the screen saver. He sat for a long while just staring at the open spreadsheet, his mind turning over the puzzle that was Ms. Makimachi. When he'd spoken to her on the phone there had been a distinct echo, despite the clarity of the connection. It had been soft and uncommonly distracting - more than just a minor nuisance, it had genuinely made it difficult to think. Only now, having so recently 'heard' Kenshin's mental voice, did he realize the truth: he'd been hearing that echo with his mind, not his ears.

* * *

Pact proved to be every bit as picturesque in person as it appeared in the brochure. Even the tiny train station with its stone facing, slate roof, and wrought-iron benches had an antiquated air, one which the twining wisteria and gravel walkways served only to accentuate. The building, in essence little more than a covered platform, was perched on a ridge that afforded visitors a lovely view of the town proper. Gently sloping hills outlined a vaguely wedge-shaped valley dotted with well-kept homes, and in the center the village green was a triangular park surrounded by modest businesses: a bank, a grocer, a bakery.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Exiting the train in a graceless rush, Misao went to stand on the edge of the promontory, backpack dangling from one arm and her suitcase leaning drunkenly against her leg. Kaoru followed at a more sedate pace, carrying her luggage instead of dragging it down the stairs behind her. The earlier drizzle had cleared, leaving behind only a trace of damp and the scent of moss and earth on the air as the sun began to set, although in the distance fog gathered against the backdrop of Snowdon Mountain.

"Mmm. I bet the view was even better yesterday," Kaoru said, gazing out across the valley, "it was sunny and clear without a trace of rain."

Misao told herself that 'accidentally' whacking Kaoru with her backpack was probably not a good idea, no matter how satisfying or deserved it might be. Instead she took a deep, calming breath before grasping the handle of her suitcase and turning to walk across the small parking lot. "I told you that the tickets had already been purchased and were non-refundable," she called over her shoulder. "I also explained that I was originally supposed to be traveling with Megumi, and you _know_ what she's like!"

Megumi was their second cousin, an expert on furniture and ceramics from the British Isles. Where Misao was something of a bohemian free spirit, Megumi had strict standards of decorum. She had no patience at all for 'unprofessional flights of fancy', and tended to be slightly pretentious, exceedingly impatient, and acidly sarcastic. Naturally, when thrown together they got on terrifically, in the original sense of the word. It was no surprise, then, that Misao would plan ahead, as the best way to keep Megumi from noticing and carping on her research efforts was to make sure she had ample distractions in the way of sight-seeing opportunities and fine dining.

Knowing why Misao would have had no qualms about dragging _Megumi_ all over Wales did nothing to soothe Kaoru's irritation over having the same done to _her_. She'd been disgruntled when their lunch plans fell through, and her dissatisfaction had then turned to full-blown annoyance when she'd picked up a copy of the local bus and train schedules for later reference. With the proof right there in her hand, Misao had been forced to admit that they could have taken the train from London to Betws-Y-Coed instead of Porthmadog, and been happily ensconced in Pact the afternoon before. The fact that the 'scenic route' had not only been scenic, but had - due to the B&B in Porthmadog being cheaper - actually cost somewhat less than the direct one, really wasn't the point.

Eyebrow twitching and fingers clenched white against violent urges, Kaoru growled wordlessly under her breath, then raised her voice to call after the living embodiment of cluelessness. "And like _I_ already explained, you should have _told me _you had an appointment at the Black Boy Inn."

"I didn't have an appointment," Misao retorted, waving her free hand about for emphasis. "Dr. Predith said he would be there and would be happy to speak with me... but we didn't set a time or anything." She slowed her step as she spoke, allowing Kaoru (mumbling something pointed about weasels and semantics) to catch up. With a huff of her own, Misao conceded the point. "Fine! He's the foremost authority on Welsh folklore, and this was my only chance to speak with him without breaking our schedule."

"And what schedule would that be? Does it involve another day or so of dragging me around the countryside for no reason?"

Rather than dig her hole any deeper, Misao chose to ignore the question entirely, focusing on food as the lesser of two evils. "I don't see what the big deal is. We had a fantastic meal in an atmosphere of genuine Welsh culture and ambiance. You can have monkfish some other time."

This turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Suitcase wobbling dangerously over the setts paving the street, Kaoru abruptly turned to face her. "Did you even read the menu at Stones Bistro? Today's special was monkfish wrapped in bacon, served with grilled tomatoes on a bed of mesclun. Perfection on a plate." She sighed, shoulders slumping as she resumed her walk down the hill. "And you insisted we had to have pub fare instead!"

"There was nothing wrong with our lunch!" Misao was actually somewhat taken aback by Kaoru's continuing pique. True, you didn't get between Kaoru and a decent meal; her skills in the kitchen extended no further than pre-packaged foods heated in the microwave, and sometimes even that was chancy. For her, eating out was one of the perks of the job. She was still being unusually adamant about this fish getting away.

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it. Just because my Welsh pie was perfectly lovely doesn't mean it was what I wanted." Glancing over her shoulder she waggled her finger in a scolding gesture. "You're the one who hyped the seafood before we ever got off the train, so if I'm upset it's your own fault."

Which... was actually true, much as Misao would like to deny it. Even if it _had _been Kaoru's idea to check both menus before deciding where to eat, Misao had used the suggestion to her own advantage. "Alright, I'm sorry," she said, grudging but sincere. "I really thought there would be time to eat at Stones when I suggested it, but it took longer than expected to store our luggage. I also didn't think we'd make _quite_ so many stops along the way."

Tired of fighting with both her cousin and the uneven pavement, Kaoru paused in the street, braced one hand on the handle of her bag, and gave Misao her full attention. "So what was your plan? Were you going to shout: 'Look! Monkfish!' and then run while Megumi was eating?"

"Pretty much!" Unabashed, the younger girl actually bounced a bit on her heels as she, too, came to a stop in the otherwise deserted street. "We both know she would've been pleased as Punch to ditch me for an hour."

"True." Kaoru nodded, granting that Megumi preferred dining alone over dealing with Misao's chatter any day. "But why couldn't you just tell _me _you needed to go to Caernarfon for lunch?"

One sneaker scuffed back and forth over the pavement as Misao peeked at Kaoru from under her bangs. "It didn't seem like a good idea? Not that you're anything like Megumi!" she hastened to add as Kaoru looked skyward as if seeking strength or, possibly - mayhem being best perpetrated without witnesses - checking whether the area was wired for CCTV. "But it was nice being in charge for a change."

"You'd get to be in charge more often if you used your powers for good rather than evil," Kaoru muttered, rubbing her hands over her face. "Just... promise me there won't be anymore surprises, okay?"

"Okay."

Satisfied she straightened, wrapped her hand around her suitcase's handle, and resumed walking. For a scant few minutes all was quiet save for the faint, sandy grate of luggage wheels against the pavement.

"Um," hesitant and vaguely sheepish, Misao's voice brought Kaoru's forward momentum to an immediate halt. "In the interests of full disclosure, I should tell you that you're not here to attend an estate sale."

She blurted it out in a rush, and it took Kaoru a minute to sort the flow of sound into meaningful words. "I'm not?" Misao shook her head. "Then why are we - why am _I _here?"

"To organize one?" Closing her eyes, she leaned away as if expecting either a verbal or physical backlash. Possibly both. When neither came she dared a look, sighing in relief that Kaoru appeared too stunned to respond. Seizing the opportunity, she trotted quickly ahead, turning at a safe distance to walk backwards while adding: "The Gryffith manor house is apparently packed with antiques, as well as assorted items that may or may not be valuable. Oniwaban has been hired to sort through it and decide what to auction, what to sell, and what to preserve."

Kaoru blinked once, then her brows lowered and she increased her pace, stalking determinedly after the younger girl. "So why isn't Megumi here? She's the expert!"

At the foot of the hill the lane entered the town limits, where a wide walkway surrounded the village green. Still backing away, Misao's heel hit the curb, and she flashed a bright grin as she shifted her grip on her bag to lift it over the tiny hurdle. "Okina agreed to send you instead, because Megumi always complains about being sent to out-of-the-way places." _At least she does when she travels with me. _"Besides, you needed to get away for awhile."

"Get away from where? I'd been home for less than a week!"

"And see how easy it was to be shipped off again? Out here you'll have a chance for some peace and quiet." That garnered a glare and an uncomplimentary mutter, both of which Misao ignored as she turned to scan the surrounding buildings for their inn. _The Feathered Nest_ was a remodeled church house, large enough to stand out among the smaller businesses even if she couldn't spot the sign. However, what caught her eye was no mere building, nor a quaint old-fashioned business shingle.

"I... That's... Wow."

Glancing sideways, she nodded in agreement with Kaoru's fumbling assessment. 'Wow' pretty much summed it up.

Even larger than the pictures had led them to believe, the Scythe dominated the sharpest point of the wide, triangular village green, where he stood screaming eternal defiance at the sky. Inanimate, yet nevertheless daring all comers to test his patience and protection, he possessed a sense of presence which only grew stronger as they walked closer.

Absent the bizarre photo treatment, it was apparent he was carved from some sort of deep red stone, most likely granite, which had then been polished until smooth and reflective. At a distance, gleaming in the late afternoon sun, the surface appeared utterly unmarred by weather, pollution, or even disrespectful birds. The beak and talons glinted with the bright metallic sheen of gold leaf: perfectly, implausibly immaculate.

After a long moment, Misao reminded herself that the statue wasn't _really_ a powerful, majestic being frozen forever in stone, and shook off the sense of awe that strove to keep her silent. "That's the cleanest statue I've ever seen in my life," she said. Folding her arms atop her suitcase handle, she bent forward to rest her chin on her wrist, head tilted in a considering manner. "What do you suppose? Think they make someone scrub it every day to keep it looking like new?" When Kaoru didn't reply - didn't even huff in exasperation at her irreverence - she turned her head to find the older girl staring, glassy eyed and entranced. "Kaoru?"

Despite her extensive experience with all manner of priceless antiques, Kaoru was at a loss to explain her reaction to the Scythe. Her single utterance certainly didn't do him justice, and barely managed to convey her dumbfounded sense of wonder. She'd handled intricately detailed hardstone figures that were less awe inspiring. Maybe it was because of his _size_, but the sheer power and grace in his form simply... took her breath away. Animal or not, fictitious or not, his lines and bearing were princely, his long-gone sculptor having successfully captured the essence of a protective, territorial male.

Drawing a shaking breath, she shadowed Misao as they moved closer, her pulse seeming to increase with each step. Absurdly, her palms were sweating, her entire body feeling flushed and overheated. As if this were an important meeting or a first date, and one she desperately wanted to go well. Crazier still, she had the undeniable impression that _the statue was anxious, too_. Which was surely Misao's fault for encouraging her to see the Scythe as real, as the focus of a true story. And even if it could care - which it couldn't - why would it want to impress _her_?

They slowed to a stop where the flagstone walk made its closest approach, standing outside his shadow, yet only yards away. That close, she was impressed anew by the level of detail. It was more than just the windswept lay of feathers and tail, discernable even in photos. Now she could see the way carved muscles flexed in the stone haunches, and strained to brace the wings against an absent storm. Hundreds of feathers covered those wings - not just an impression of veined ovals in neat lines, but individually carved primaries, coverts, and secondaries in varying lengths, shapes, and groupings. Where the feathers gave way to pelt, the stone bore faint ripples, as if the velvet-short fur had been tousled by the wind.

The realism was stunning. Impossible. How could anyone just _make up _something that seemed so believably life-like? Unless the sculptor had spent hours studying both raptors and lions, it seemed unlikely that the minutiae could be so accurate. Yet the alternative hypothesis - that gryphons were real, and the sculptor had managed to study one - was even more ludicrous. Yet she more than half believed, if she dared to reach out and touch him, that he'd prove to be flesh and blood. That if she blinked, he'd move.

"Hey, Kaoru!" Slender fingers snapping in her face forced the issue. Flinching, she blinked a few times in reaction before swatting Misao's hand away. A brief glance confirmed the Scythe remained the same, unmoved and unmoving... although her sense of nervous excitement had vanished.

"Look at you, gawking like an amateur!"

"I was not _gawking_." At least, she hoped she hadn't been. A fresh wave of nervous heat flooded her cheeks with color. _She_ was supposed to be the calm, professional one, the foil to Misao's off-the-wall, candid reactions.

"I don't care if you gawk," Misao said, patting Kaoru's shoulder consolingly. "He's a fine specimen, as mythological beings immortalized in solid rock go." She grinned as Kaoru clapped a hand to her forehead in exasperation. "Just try not to let our employers catch you - they might decide to hire someone else to handle the estate."

"If your lack of professionalism hasn't cost us the contract, I doubt we have anything to worry about."

"Well then," hoisting her suitcase, Misao skipped across the street to the inn and all but leapt up the steps to the wide wooden door at the top, "I'll just leave you two alone!" With a wink she vanished inside, sunlight obscuring any glimpse of her that the door's glass inset, transom, or sidelights might otherwise have offered..

Alone on the sidewalk, Kaoru sighed, then straightened her shoulders and crossed the street, refusing to hurry although heaven only knew what Misao was doing inside. At the door she paused to spare one last glance at the statue. She still wanted a closer look. More than that, she wanted to feel for herself that the impression of sleek feathers and plush fur was only an illusion. _I'll see _you _later_, she thought.

And as the door closed behind her, surely it was only her imagination that turned the sun's glare into the glint of masculine satisfaction in one round, amber eye; or insisted that, in place of the earlier desperate hoping, the statue now radiated an infuriating smugness.


End file.
